Between the Iron Bars
by Angel's Nocturne
Summary: For YGO Fanfiction Contest 4 -JouKai- What if Jou and Kaiba had met before high school, but didn't remember it? What if they had been friends as ten-year olds, when Seto was still in the orphanage with Mokuba? A cute one-shot for Compy's contest


Disclaimer: I do not own YGO…unless I'm dreaming right now. Then I so _totally_ own YGO.

Author's Note: _KONICHIWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA _YU-GI-OH! FANS!! 3

'Tis I, Ten Angel's Nocturne, back again from long breaks and too-much-homework to bring you more Yu-Gi-Oh! fiction. It's been a while since the last time I've submitted anything, so be kind to my rustiness. It might take a little while for these old writer's fingers to warm up (cracks knuckles).

Well, it's Season Four of the Yu-Gi-Oh! Fanfiction Contest, and once again I have joined up as a competitor in this crazy melee of a writer's contest. Once again, everything will be one-shots with a pairing as the basis for the subject. And what pairing do we have for _this _round, you ask?

It is (drumroll) ………….. PUPPYSHIPPING or Seto Kaiba x Katsuya Jonouchi.

Hope you like this and good luck to everyone else!!

#2 Author's Note: Thoughts in _italics_.

**Between the Iron Bars**

**By: Angel's Nocturne**

It all started because of a beach ball.

It looked like any ordinary beach ball, with its myriad of colors and its soft, slippery feel. It smelt of plastic and could be blown up just as any other beach ball, so truly there was nothing special about it. But Mokuba had fallen in love with it the moment he discovered it at the orphanage, and from then on the raven-haired boy never went anywhere without his spherical companion.

Seto was glad that Mokuba had something that made him happy in this dreary place; after being left here following the death of their father, the brunette had wondered how the tragedy had affected his younger brother, who wasn't old enough to understand the full weight of their predicament. There was a lot to take in: they had no home, no family, and—if their fate could possibly be any less fortunate—no future beyond this place. It was a reality that was hard to swallow; Seto was a tough kid and even _he_ was having difficulty dealing with the harsh realization.

Ever since his mother passed away giving birth to his brother and his father died in a car accident, Seto had not allowed himself to cry over their deaths. Not a tear was permitted to stain his cheeks, never again, and _especially_ not in front of his younger brother. He had to be the strong one now, he realized. _He_ had to be the mother and father and older brother for Mokuba, because no one else would ever be there for them again.

_We have no one else_, Seto though to himself grimly, day after day, _but we'll get through this. One day we'll get out of here, together, and I'll make sure we never have to need anyone else again. It'll be just us, together, forever._

That thought alone was the only thing keeping Seto from falling apart, as days and weeks and finally months past in the orphanage. It wasn't a terrible living, granted, but it could never be a substitute for the family and friends they once had. Bullies were a constant threat, picking Mokuba as an easy target and leaving Seto with the duty to defend his sibling against the hordes of them. It was on rare occasions that a day went by and Seto didn't have to punch anyone in the stomach.

On one of these rare days, the late spring sun was high in the early afternoon sky, glaring down on Seto as he watched his brother play with his beloved beach ball. The air had a heaviness to it that made everything seem to move in slow motion, and if there was a breeze it was practically non-existent. It was thick with the smell of pollen, humidity, and the heady aroma of nearby lilac bushes that grew around the tall iron fences surrounding the perimeter of the orphanage playground. Beyond the fence was the road and the sidewalk that lined it, and as heat rose off the asphalt and parked cars in rippling waves Seto forced himself not to let his thoughts drift with the thick, heavy atmosphere that seemed to engulf the afternoon. His kept his eyes sternly on his brother and his ears keen to any outside noise—though there were no other children outside with them, he never wanted to take any chances. He would never, _ever_ forgive himself if someone hurt Mokuba.

Seto allowed himself the tiniest smile as the raven-haired boy threw the beach ball high over his head, an elated grin plastered on his round face. As the ball fell back to earth it seemed to do so as if it were falling through syrup and Mokuba caught it easily in his small hands. He giggled softly and turned to his brother.

"Wanna play w'me, nii-san?" he asked.

"Sure." Seto got up from leaning against the wall, the fabric of his sweater catching on the coarse brick. It was too hot to be wearing a sweater top but it was one of the few items of clothing Seto had that were his own—everything else was from the orphanage, and most of their clothes were either too small or too large. He walked over to stand across from his brother as Mokuba clumsily threw the ball into the air toward him.

He caught it easily enough. "Nice throw, Mokie-kun," he commented, using the nickname he had given his younger brother. The smaller one giggled. Seto tensed his arm muscles in preparation. "Okay, here it comes!" he shouted, and he shoved the ball into the air as high as he could.

For a moment the ball knocked out the sun, eclipsing it as it sailed overhead through the muggy, stifling air. Seto had to squint as he watched the sphere of plastic and breath soar up, up, up…

… and _over_ the iron fence, just barely passing within millimeters of one of the sharp iron fence posts. The ball landed with a bounce on the sidewalk, before settling in the soft grass that bordered it and the fence.

Seto felt his stomach drop below his feet. There was no way he was going to be able to get the ball back from that side of the fence—the space between the bars was too close for Seto to squeeze through, and the ball was too far away for him to reach out and grab. He knew he was not allowed to leave the playground, and that none of the adults would bother interrupting whatever they were doing to rescue a child's toy. If it was any other toy, any other ball, then Seto wouldn't have troubled himself with even thinking about the impossibility of the situation.

But this was Mokuba's ball, and thus was not "any other ball". He had to get it back somehow.

That was when it happened.

From down the sidewalk came a pair of voices, causing Seto's attention to turn to the two approaching figures. In the hot, glaring sunlight he saw a boy and a girl walking along the hot ribbon of concrete, talking in an animated way to each other. The girl was smaller than the boy, with long auburn hair that reached just to her shoulders, and was wearing a pink dress with white sandals. She was smiling and skipping about, laughing as she held the boy's hand.

For some reason, it was the boy that really caught Seto's interest. He held the girl's hand with equal affection, his messy blond locks tousled about his glowing peach-colored face. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, baggy green shorts, and worn sneakers that were ragged and dirty. As they came closer Seto noted the accent in the boy's voice, which was strange to his ears, and he unknowingly focused intently on it as the two finally came close enough for him to distinguish their words.

"… go to the beach today, can't we nii-san?" the girl inquired.

The boy shrugged. "I dunno, maybe, but I think Ma don't want us out dat late, ya'know?"

"I guess so."

"We can go for ice cream instead," the boy suggested when the girl's face fell. She lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Okay!" She gave him a toothy grin, showing off a gap where one of her front teeth used to be. She pranced next to him with glee, until her eyes caught sight of the beach ball nestled in the emerald grass. She raised a small hand to point at it. "Look! Lookie, nii-san! A ball!"

Seto watched with interest as the two ambled over toward the beach ball. So did Mokuba, but for different reasons. When they came close enough to it, the boy looked up and saw the raven-haired child watching him through the iron bars, his big, grey eyes glancing between the ball and him. He was suckling on his thumb, something Seto knew Mokuba did only when he anxious or worried.

Seto took a step forward. He was prepared for what would come—he knew that boy would probably take the ball, saying something like "Finders, keepers" or a sentence to that effect, and then trot off with his sister to go and get their ice cream. From the look that was already crossing Mokie's face he could not let that happen—it may have been just a ball, but it was _Mokuba's_ ball, and because it was such Seto would not allow anyone to take it away. No one would, not even this smiling blond who had eyes like chocolate and amber and honey.

_We've already lost too much_, Seto thought in the back of his mind. _I won't let us lose anything else. _He was about to speak his demands, when the blond boy suddenly spoke.

"Hey!" he shouted, as he stared straight at Mokuba. He picked up the ball and tossed it lightly in the air, then caught it. "'Dis yours?"

To Seto's mild surprise, Mokuba nodded—normally Mokuba was shy around strangers and tended to run behind his brother when confronted by anyone older than him. This time he didn't, which made Seto study the new boy further… was there something different about him, then? Maybe it was that goofy grin that spread across his face when Mokuba nodded, still sucking on his thumb, or was it the sparkle of those laughing eyes. Seto shook his head, dismissing the thought. People always told him that he thought too much for his age.

The girl at the blond's side tugged on his shirt. "I like the ball, nii-san," she said.

"Well, maybe we can ask Mom ta buy one for us," the older boy suggested. "But 'dis is dat kid's ball, and it ain't ours ta keep. Right?" he asked, looking down at her.

The girl nodded fiercely. "Yeah."

"Okay 'den." The boy turned back toward the fence and Mokuba. "Ready?" he asked, and then he pushed the ball up into the air. "Here!" As if guided by his will the ball gracefully arched over the fence and back into the playground. Mokuba ran awkwardly to it, trying to catch the ball in midair, only to reach it as it bounded on the gravely ground and into his arms.

The smile on his face was priceless, and Seto felt a small flutter of warmth in his chest at the sight of it. Feeling too much like an onlooker, he sauntered towards his brother as Mokuba gleefully bounced the ball around, following after it as the sphere rebounded away from him.

"Mokie-kun," he said, "what do you say to him?"

"Thank you!!" Mokuba sang, his hands tightly clamped around the ball as he pirouetted in energetic circles. The corners of Seto's mouth curled into a barely-noticeable smile as his younger brother skipped off a little ways, but not out of his sight. With that completed, Seto faced the blond on the opposite side of the fence.

He bowed slightly. "Thanks for giving back the ball," he said. "It's his favorite toy—I don't know what he would do without it."

The other shrugged. "Eh, it was nothin'," he replied. He gestured to Mokuba. "Is he your brother?"

"Yes."

The blond nodded. "I know what dat's like. If my sister," he glanced down at the girl he held hands with, "lost any of her toys, I know I'd do anything ta get it back." There was a strange pause that went between them, and the boy reached his free hand forward, near the bars. "My name's Katsuya. What's yours?"

Normally tentative with such things as handshakes, Seto didn't feel the need to think twice about this one. He took Katsuya's hand and shook it. "I'm Seto."

"Cool." They let go and Katsuya moved back to the sidewalk where his sister stood. He nodded to her, as she had whispered something to him that Seto didn't hear. "Well, seeya 'round then, Seto-san."

"Okay." Katsuya smiled, and then the two of them began to walk down the sidewalk, chatting again as if nothing had happened. Seto watched them go, and for a moment he felt a longing to go with them and see where they were going in the big, wide world. But then he remembered Mokuba, and the responsibility of his brother dampened his desire to see the fantasy further.

As he turned back toward his brother and the orphanage, a part of him secretly hoped that he would see the blond boy again.

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And see him he did. The very next day, as Seto tossed the ball (more gently) to Mokuba, he saw Katsuya and his sister heading down the street toward them. He smiled—he didn't actually think Katsuya would come back. For the rest of the day he chatted with the blond through the bars, sometimes tossing the ball over the fence back and forth when sitting became too boring.

It was an odd feeling to talk with Katsuya—after the death of his mother and then his father, Seto hadn't been able to feel any sort of happiness beyond the knowledge that his brother was safe and with him. It was as if, with their passing, his own childishness died with him, and he had grown up quickly to compensate for the lack of structure in his and Mokuba's life. He took on the role of caretaker and protector with extremely diligence—something that might have been too much of a burden for normal ten year old. Seto had refused to crack, however, and in witnessing his relatives exploiting his and Mokuba's inheritance and leaving them here, he knew that he and Mokuba could only rely on themselves from then on. There couldn't be anyone else, because even the slightest trust in someone could lead to another betrayal, and Seto doubted they could afford to lose the little that they had.

As the days wore on and summer blossomed, Katsuya continued to come day after day, sometimes with his sister and sometimes alone. Katsuya was a conundrum that Seto couldn't solve, and that troubled him. Why did he bother coming to see him like this? There wasn't anything in it for him. Not that Seto could complain about the blond's continuous visits—in a sense they were reassuring, guaranteed when nothing in his life seemed permanent and stable. At any moment, Seto knew, he could be adopted and leave the orphanage. He could end up being separated from Mokuba, and never see him again. With this in his thoughts the level of uncertainty made him anti-social—why make relationships when they could be gone the next day, leaving hurt and sadness in where they used to be?

It was why Seto never made friends with the other kids in the orphanage, or got close with the caretakers or adults. Though the technique was irrational, and Seto was a very logical boy, he thought it better to avoid any more pain. After all, it was hard to be strong and secure for one's brother when one was hardly stable themselves, and fleeting relationships made one _very_ unstable indeed.

But Katsuya didn't make Seto feel that way. It was as if, even if he could only see the blond for one more day, he could hang out with him knowing that even if their afternoons weren't permanent, at least he had had those fun moments. After being serious for so long, it was refreshing to feel a little like a child again, even if was only for a few hours.

One afternoon, when the sky was littered with giant, cotton-ball clouds that floated gently against the azure sky, Seto and Katsuya laid on the ground beside one another, the fence the only barrier between them. They were both looking at the sky as the clouds lazily drifted past, the hot sun warm on their faces and the sound of cicadas hissing in the trees echoing around them. They were silent for a long time, and Seto had been thinking so hard that he only just caught the end of Katsuya's sentence.

"… what do you think?" the blond asked.

"Hmm?" Seto turned to look at Katsuya, as the other boy sighed. He was used to the brunette losing himself in his head.

"I said, I think that cloud over there looks like a bunny," Katsuya repeated, pointing up at a particularly fat cloud that was obscuring the sun. "Do you think it's a bunny?"

"I think it's a cloud," Seto said mundanely. "I don't see a bunny."

"Ah, c'mon, it's _right dere_!" Katsuya exclaimed. "See? Dat little part right dere is its tail, and the long part up dere is its ears and—" Katsuya stopped mid-breath and looked over at Seto, who appeared bored. "What? You look like I'm talkin' bout math or something."

"I just don't see the point," Seto replied. "Looking for other things in clouds."

Katsuya snorted. "Because it's _fun_," he retorted. He stared at Seto for a long time, his lower lip stiff with agitation and thought. Seto looked past him at the sky, pretending not to notice the hard look the other was giving him. Finally he turned his gaze back to the sky and said, "Okay, you try."

"Try what?"

"Try looking for things in da clouds," Katsuya said.

Seto sighed. "But it's such a stupid—"

"Just _try_…!" There was a begging tone in Katsuya's normally casual voice, and Seto's cobalt eyes leapt over to see the boy watching him, his eyes suddenly very bright in the afternoon light. The blond's mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but the word appeared stuck on his tongue, like he couldn't bring himself to say it. His eyes, however, betrayed his words to Seto as if he said them aloud.

_Please…._

There was something about the way those eyes looked into his, the warm amber flecked with glints of warm honey and gold, that caused a stir of warmth in Seto's chest that poured into his stomach and then went all throughout him. It was a nice feeling, albeit strange, and Seto would never admit to having these weird sensations whenever he was around Katsuya. He didn't know what they were or why he had them, so he felt no need to profess them to the world—if _he_ didn't know what they were, then he was sure Katsuya had even less of an idea.

He also knew that Katsuya would never _ever_ admit to the desperate want he had for Seto to do as he said. With a loud sigh, he locked his eyes on the sky as he muttered through gritted teeth, "Fine." Katsuya's victorious smirk could be sensed like a hot sun burning his pride, but Seto kept himself focused on the puffy clouds. _Fine. I'll play along, but only because you asked. _His eyes, as blue as the sky he watched, stared gloomily at the clouds as they sailed on their way across the sea of sapphire. Each one that he looked at seemed like a blob of white, devoid of personality and shape. He glanced from all sides trying to look for one that looked _remotely_ like something else—anything else. None of them seemed to work—some of them even dispersed under the heavy weight of his stare, which would have been amazing if that had been Seto's intention.

He scowled. _Why don't I see it_? He was beginning to get frustrated. This was a game, after all, and Seto prided himself on never losing. He played several games with Katsuya over the weeks, like Simon Says and I Spy, but all those things were games with obvious results and an actual answer. This game, however….

_It's all left to interpretation. _Seto sighed and closed his eyes. There was no right answer, it just had to be whatever he saw. _Maybe that's why he's so insistent on this—you can't lose when any answer can be right_. He was sure, however, that just saying anything didn't count—he actually had to find something in the clouds. So he opened his eyes and for once in his life, looked for something that wasn't there and saw beyond the strict patterns and logical aspects of the world he knew so well.

It took him a long time, but after what felt like forever he finally saw the cloud he liked. It had a long neck with an obvious head that had jaws open and wide, and some of the wisps of clouds pouring from that open mouth could have been teeth, or fire. Large, billowing puffs of cloud jutted from its back like wings, and a long slithery portion swirled underneath it like a tail. Just within the center of its head, a patch of sky was visible, almost like it had an eye.

_Blue eyes, just like mine_.

Seto smiled triumphantly and cleared his throat. "Hey, I found one," he announced, pointing at the sky. "Right there. It's a dragon. See?" When he didn't hear a cheerful reply in response, he felt annoyed and turned his head to see why Katsuya didn't answer.

He couldn't help himself—he smiled.

Katsuya had fallen asleep in the grass.

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The weeks went on like this, day after day Katsuya coming to the orphanage and Seto talking and playing with him across the fence. The warmth of summer was coming to a head and as the days grew longer so did Katsuya's visits with Seto, sometimes lasting into the sunset. Mokuba was always present, playing with his ball or some other toy nearby, but there were some instances where the two of them were completely alone, despite the cars whizzing past and the sound of people in the distance. It was as if the world disappeared for a while, leaving only them and the fence.

Seto sometimes wished that the fence wasn't part of the equation.

It had gotten to a point where Katsuya never came to visit him while they played, but that Seto and Mokuba were waiting for him every day to come. The pattern was usually the same, with Katsuya bringing his sister—Seto learned her name was Shizuka—along with him on the weekends and sometimes in-between. They always came when the days were sunny and warm, and when the days were stormy and dull Seto stayed inside, knowing that Katsuya and Shizuka probably wouldn't come that day.

So it surprised him one late morning when he saw the blond running down the sidewalk towards him, with thunder booming and black, hideous clouds looming dangerously in the horizon.

Seto blinked at the sight. He had seen the weather and was about to head inside, but after seeing Katsuya he knew something was wrong—he ran to the fence just as the other boy reached it too, and Seto was close enough to see his cheeks were wet with fresh tears.

The wind whipped around them, strangely cool for this time of year, but Seto didn't care. "Kat-kun!" he shouted, using the nickname he and Mokuba had given him. "Katsuya-kun! What happened?"

Katsuya let out a small cry, his mouth open in a strange agony. His hands gripped the bars tightly as his shoulders shuddered uncontrollably. He choked, and Seto unknowingly placed his hand across the bars onto the other's shoulders to calm him. At last he stuttered, "S-She's… s-she's g-g-gone…!"

Seto felt his stomach lurch with unease. "Who?" he asked, even though he was sure he knew who it was. "Who's gone, Kat-kun?" Katsuya sniffled, his breathing sharp and fast from both running and crying as if he were hyperventilating.

"Sh-Shiz… Shizuka!" Katsuya bawled. "She's gone! Ma took 'er and left! They're g-gone, and I-I'm never gonna—" He stopped breath raggedly, and Seto's grip on his shoulder tightened. "—I'm never g-gonna see her again!" He suddenly fell to his knees, his head pressed against the bars as tears fell from his eyes like rain.

Seto felt his teeth clench in his mouth, an odd feeling like ice flowing from his chest and numbing his body. His face was like stone, unmoving and expressionless, as he slowly bent down and placed his forehead against where Katsuya's was. He felt the other boy shiver from the touch (or was it the wind?) and to Seto's surprise, grabbed Seto's hand and squeezed it until Seto was sure it had lost all circulation.

He didn't care, though. He didn't _want_ to care. All he wanted to do was take the pain away, take the pain away from Katsuya and make it stop hurting. The icy feeling made him feel frozen.

He wanted to… but he didn't know how.

Helpless, Seto sat with Katsuya as the thunder boomed and the lightening crackled, and the sky opened up and rained its tears upon them.

And Seto cried too, because he didn't know what to do.

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It was now or never.

Word had just leaked through the grapevine that Kaiba Gozaburo was going to visit the orphanage in a week or two as a way to make himself seem _caring_ to the situation of parentless children, although everyone knew it was just a publicity stunt for the sake of his company's exposure and media hype. Being an avid chess player both before and after his parent's deaths, Seto was aware that Gozaburo was a skilled chess player and had taken time to watch him play on the television matches. He had studied his moves, once hoping to use the strategy to become a great chess player just like Gozaburo Kaiba.

Now he was going to use them to _beat_ Gozaburo Kaiba.

Seto knew that if he didn't do something, he and Mokuba would probably end up at the orphanage for the rest of their childhood years. Though their current situation could be worse, Seto wanted something better than what they had—what better way to get that then to challenge the CEO of one of the world's most powerful companies to a game of chess? The stakes would be that if Gozaburo lost he would have to adopt Seto and Mokuba—as for what would happen if _Seto_ lost… well, he'd leave that Gozaburo, who he was sure wouldn't make any outrageous demands considering it was a ten-year old boy who was challenging him.

That was what Seto was bargaining on. Gozaburo would be so overconfident, drunk with is arrogance and skill so much so that he would hardly realize that Seto would dupe him into the deal. Even if Seto had to cheat, he would, because everything would be riding on this one game: his future, Mokuba's future, _everything_. Seto had everything to gain from this challenge, and nothing to lose.

Well, _almost_ nothing.

He stood outside, basked in the warm sunlight of the last August day, but he could barely feel it—his body felt cold as Katsuya talked eagerly next to him, saying something about going to the beach and buying new sneakers. He wasn't really paying attention to the words though, but just how Katsuya's voice sounded as it rang in his ears and floated on the air. He nodded, pretending to listen, but instead watched the way the light bounced off the other boy's golden locks like melted gold, and how his eyes seemed to glow like warm honey.

He was trying to memorize his face, so that he wouldn't forget.

Seto knew what the price would be for choosing this deal with Gozaburo—he would get a home, a father, and a future for him and his brother, but at the cost of the friendship he had acquired. Logically, it seemed like a bargain deal, that he was getting more for his buck… for all of the things that Gozaburo could offer him, what did one measly friendship with a scruffy, loud, blond kid mean for him anyway?

Seto felt his stomach do somersaults in his chest. It meant a lot, from the apparent reaction from his body. Seto stopped trying to understand why it was that he felt this way, and why it was only when he was around Katsuya. All he knew was that he did, and that it had to stop.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath. What he was about to do would finalize the deal, and there would be no turning back after this. He would never be able to fix what he was about to do.

He only hoped that damage he would do wouldn't hurt as bad for the other….

"Seto?" The brunette opened his eyes and saw Katsuya peering at him worriedly, which was a strange expression for the blond's face to bear. Normally Katsuya was either blissfully happy or raging mad—worried never seemed to fit his features like the former two did. Seeing that particular look cross the other's face, Seto almost wished he didn't have to hurt him. But there was no other way, and it had to be done. "Hey, what's da matter?"

"It-It's nothing," Seto murmured, averting his gaze so he didn't have to look at Katsuya's face. He had in his memory the image of Katsuya, happy and carefree and ignorant of any pain… it was the only memory he wanted to have beyond this moment. "Listen, I have to get going. I have to go find Mokuba and then have dinner."

Katsuya shrugged. "Okay, dat's cool," he replied. Seto nodded, hoping that maybe the conversation could just end there, but as he turned away and started to head back toward the orphanage, he heard the question that he had pleaded _not_ to hear. "So, are ya gonna be here tomorrow?"

Seto froze. With his back to Katsuya, he clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palm. The pain was a good distraction as his mouth opened to speak.

"No," he answered quietly. "I won't be out tomorrow."

"Oh." He heard Katsuya shuffle a bit, his hands wiggling into the pockets of his jeans. "Um, whadda 'bout da next day?"

"Not that day either."

He could feel Katsuya's eyes peering at the back of his head. "Hey, is somethin' da matter? What's wrong, is it somethin' I said or—"

"You didn't say anything," Seto cut in coldly. "There's nothing _wrong_."

"'Den why aren't you—"

"Because I don't want to see you anymore!" Seto shouted. He wanted to whip around and face Katsuya, but then the other boy would have seen him crying, and Seto had too much pride to let that happen. "Get it? I don't want to talk to you!"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then Katsuya spoke again, this time with a voice that choked out, "B-But—"

"There is no 'but', you idiot!" Seto yelled. Why wouldn't Katsuya _leave_ already? "There nothing, alright? Nothing! I don't _care_ what you think! I don't want to see you, hear you—nothing! Just go away and leave me alone!"

There was a sniffling sound. "Seto-kun—"

"NOW!" the brunette screamed. _Why won't you go away_? _Stop standing there and __**leave**__ already, baka. _The bit his lip and waited, trying to survive the mind-shattering silence. When it lasted so long that he was about to turn around and scream again, he finally heard the heavy, quick footfalls of running, and glanced behind him.

He watched Katsuya run away, down the street and out of sight. It was only then that Seto allowed one lone tear to slither down his face.

It was the last tear he would ever let himself shed.

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The day before Gozaburo Kaiba came to the orphanage was a gloomy one. Rain came down in bucket loads, and the sky was one unified color of dull, depressing gray. It was one of those days that had a sort of melancholy to it, and the hours seem to tick by as if the day was meant to last forever.

Seto didn't take much notice. He was staring out the window of his room, watching the ribbons of rainwater glide across the glass pane as he ran over the events of tomorrow in his head. Mokuba was busy hanging out with some of the younger orphans in a room nearby, so he didn't feel the need to stand over him like a hawk.

Not that he would have to anymore. Once he had secured his place with Gozaburo, he and Mokuba would never have to worry about the pathetic ants that bullied them here at orphanage. They would all be miles away, after tomorrow. Everything from their past would be: the orphanage, the bullies, their deceased parents… there wouldn't be a trace of his history left to haunt him anymore.

From now on he would be known as Seto _Kaiba_, a name admired and feared by all.

It would be a name—it would be _something_—that no one could ever take away from him.

He looked into the rain and scowled. The rain seemed to obscure everything from his view, distorting the outside view. The world seemed grey and devoid of color wherever he looked, until he noticed a small bunch of golden-yellow situated behind the black iron bars of the fence. The scowl deepened, etching lines into his young face. Against his better judgment, he left his room and headed outside into the pouring rain.

The moment he stepped out he was soaked from head to toe—his chestnut bangs clung to his forehead, as rainwater dripped mercilessly into his eyes. His clothes became heavy and wet too, but he ignored it as he trudged toward the fence where Katsuya infamously stood. He stiffened his lower lip and tried to get his thoughts in order, all the while too busy to notice the sure calmness that reflected in Katsuya's eyes.

He stopped a foot away from the fence, glaring coldly at his former friend. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you to go away?"

Katsuya didn't answer him. To Seto's astonishment the normally loudmouth blond was simply staring at him, but the force of his eyes was like a barrier. They were hard like the stone whose color they shared and the earth below his feet and boring into Seto's sky-blue eyes with a distance that made Seto's insides twist in guilt. He refused to let it phase him, though, as he stalked forward to stand in front of the blond.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" he hissed. "I told you to leave me alone. Why can't you just do that, you stupid, ill-bred—"

Seto wasn't allowed to finish his sentence, as Katsuya's hand reached with lightening speed through the bars and pulled Seto by the collar of his shirt forward until he was pressed against the bars. Katsuya's face was now only inches away, and Seto felt the warmth of the other's breath on his face.

"Because," Katsuya said quietly, without emotion, "I'm your friend. And it doesn't matter what you say, or what you do. I'll _always_ be your friend." The hard look in Katsuya's eyes was like frozen dirt, matching the sharp sapphire that embodied Seto's gaze.

Seto snorted. "In case you haven't realized, I don't _need_ friends." He tried to pull away from Katsuya, but the blond had a stronger grip on his shirt than he thought. The other kept him trapped against the fence.

Katsuya stared at him for a moment. "Maybe you don't," he answered, "but dat doesn't stop me from being your friend." Seto was about to interrupt, hoping to catch Katsuya off-guard so he could pull away and leave, but then Katsuya did something that almost completely broke Seto's resolve: he let go off his shirt color and wrapped his arms through the bars around him.

For a moment, Seto's mind froze. He was lost in the circle of Katsuya's embrace, with wet clothes on wet skin and only the slightest hint of warmth to be felt between the two. A part of him, the new part that he had created after his decision to challenge Gozaburo, shouted for him to move, to shove Katsuya's arms off him and leave him on the ground. After telling him to leave, after telling him that he never wanted to see him again, the idiot still came back and was now _touching_ him in an attempt to make him show weakness. That part of him wanted to scream at Katsuya and make the boy hate him, if he would only leave him alone.

But that part's voice became a dim roar in the back of Seto's mind as he remembered the warm, fuzzy feeling that tingled through his body when he thought of Katsuya—when he thought of his warm, honey-colored eyes and golden-tinted hair and large, goofy grin… slowly he lost himself in the memories, his mind floating in them for a split second before remembering again why he shouldn't be doing this, and he stiffened as Katsuya mumbled into his hair.

"I don't know what's goin' on," he said poignantly, "and maybe you'll never tell me, but I don't care. You're still my friend, Seto. You always will be."

_Yeah_, Seto thought numbly. _You too._ He felt Katsuya's arms slide off of him, and then the feel of soft wet lips touch briefly on his cheek. His eyes widened, and he shot a look to Katsuya that was filled with shock and bewilderment.

_Did he… did he just_…?

"See you around, Seto." Before the brunette could even register what had happened, Katsuya turned around and was running down the road, into the rain. For what felt like the longest minute of his life Seto simply stood there, staring at where he had seen Katsuya disappear off into the distance. Then he raised his hand to his cheek, hoping to feel a remnant of the warm lips that brushed them so softly.

He could only feel the cold, wet rain.

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_Eight years later_….

Kaiba sat at his desk in his home office, typing away on his laptop on a statistics report for his latest project. The sky beyond his window was black with endless night, the moon barely a sliver as stars speckled like glitter against the dark canvas that was the heavens. Everything was silent at such a late hour, save for the _click-click_ of keys being typed at a fast rate.

Finally Kaiba finished, and without even a smile or sigh of relief he shut down his computer and got up from his chair. He had been in that room, doing nothing but typing for nearly five hours, but that was nothing compared to what he usually accomplished in a day. He was tired, but that was a usual side-effect of overwork that he managed to stifle down with a steaming cup of black coffee. Tonight, however, he was almost glad that he could break from his usual routine and head down the hall to his bed.

Kaiba turned off the lamp in his office and left the room, walking stiffly from sitting too long. As he approached his room he noticed that light still leaked out from under one of the doors, and he even have to think about whose room it was. He opened it without bothering to knock.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Inside sat Mokuba, his long hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his legs folded under him as he sat on top of his bed. He was fourteen now, and was beginning to grow into more of the teenage figure that came with the age—instead of the sweater he used to wear years before, he now had on a black t-shirt displaying the name of some Indies-rock band, and a streak of red ran through his still raven-black hair. "You have school tomorrow, you should be in bed."

Mokuba's mouth spread into a wide grin. "Relax, nii-san, I'm going to sleep soon." Behind his back he held something, and if he was trying to hide it Mokuba was doing a terrible time of it.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "What is that?" Mokuba blinked at him, before realizing that his brother had seen what he was holding—he brought it forward.

"Oh, this?" In his hands he held a small, shriveled beach ball, the color slightly faded from its plastic covering. There was a large piece of duck tape covering one side from an accident the sphere had several years before. "It's just my ball. You remember it, right nii-san?"

Kaiba's lip barely twitched. "Yes," he replied quietly, impassively. "I do."

"This was my favorite thing to play with when we were at the orphanage," Mokuba explained, holding the ball in his lap and looking at it as he reminisced. "I just can't bare to part with it, even if it looks like crap." He laughed under his breath. "I was just looking at it and thinking about back when we were kids and stuff. It always makes me thinking about that boy you always used to play with." As if feeling Kaiba stiffen, Mokuba glanced up curiously at him. "You know, that kid who got my ball back for me at the orphanage? You guys were always hanging out."

Kaiba's cobalt eyes went off to the side, finding the poster on Mokuba's wall _very_ interesting all of a sudden. "Mokuba, don't you think you should be doing more useful than recollecting over dead memories?"

Mokuba sighed and shook his head. "I knew you'd say something like that," he answered. A quiet smile crossed the boy's features as he traced designs into his bed comforter. "I can't really remember anything from back then. I know there was the boy and he had a sister and that he played with us a lot. Everything else… it's like a blank. I guess I was too young to really remember well." He sighed, falling back on the bed and tossing the ball up and down in the air. "Hey, nii-san, do you remember what the boy's name was?"

"No," Kaiba said, stone-faced. "Look, it's late, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Mokuba muttered. He rolled off his bed and put the ball back under his bed. "I'm gonna go to sleep now, okay?"

Kaiba nodded, but his mind wasn't really there anymore. He eyed the spot where Mokuba had slipped the ball under the bed, but then quickly brought his gaze back to his brother's face. "Remember to bring your cell phone with you this time," he said as he turned to leave. "If you keep forgetting it then I _will_ put a microchip in your arm."

"Alright, alright."

"Good night, Mokuba."

"Good night, nii-san," Mokuba said, as Kaiba left the room and closed the door behind him.

Finally left with his own thoughts and the darkness of the hallways, Kaiba inwardly cursed Mokuba for having that blasted ball out just when he had to come in. The sight of it always made the younger start asking questions about their past, which was something Kaiba thought better to forget. Besides, the conversation almost always started to get awkward, especially if the questions started revolving around _him_….

Kaiba would never admit that he still thought about the boy from across the fence, the one who had kissed him on the cheek that rainy day. Unlike Mokuba, he had been old enough to recall some of the details of those days. Mostly, however, he had erased as much of the orphanage from his mind as he could in an attempt to focus on work, and to his actual dismay he had succeeded. He couldn't remember what the boy looked like, or even if his name. It was something a "K", but beyond that his mind was a fog.

As he trudged to the end of the long hall and reached the door to his bedroom, Kaiba wondered what had become of that boy from so many years ago. He pondered if the boy ever got to see his sister again, and if he had a job and a life and ever made something of himself.

Kaiba shook his head. Why did he even bother thinking about these things? That boy was dead to him now, as dead as he was eight years ago, and it was a waste of brain power to even try conjuring the presence of him in his mind. _Especially when I don't even recall what he looks like anymore_.

As he opened the door to his room, he saw that the soft light of the crescent moon was coming in through his window, giving his large, dark bedroom some illumination. The glow was soft and grey, devoid of all life and color, and as Kaiba walked silently toward his bed he studied the way the shadows and grey tones encompassed everything in the room and sucked all color from them.

Well, _almost_ everything.

Nestled in the many silk comforters of his bed was a figure with such golden-blond hair that not even the night and the moon could dampen its brilliance. A light snoring sound could be heard echoing the vast chambers of the room, and when Kaiba finally came close enough to study the sleeping face of his lover, a small smile formed at the corners of his lips.

Jonouchi had his face against a large pillow, his mouth left slightly open as he breathed deeply and regularly in sleep. He looked like a complete and total moron, but the sight was bizarrely satisfying and sweet all the same. Taking only a moment to undress, Kaiba got into bed on the opposite side and drew in close to the sleeping blond. A soft mumbling was heard from him as Kaiba wrapped an arm around his waist, and the secret smile he showed to no one lengthened slightly more.

He went to sleep that way, and his mind was filled with dreams of amber-colored eyes and blue-eyed, white cloud dragons.

And it was all because of one little beach ball

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Author's Note: WOOT! That was long!! TOO long… my fingers hurt (oww….).

Well, one round done and over with. If you guys like it, then press the review button and gimme a holler! If you didn't like it, well… then press the review button and gimme a holler anyways!

Hugz and cookies to all!


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